Justice is served! Not the Justice League, mind you. Instead DC’s New 52 isn’t rewriting any sort of financial paradigms. This is a good thing, since you know, it really wasn’t that spectacular. Unless you like chitin armor, in which case it was the second coming of God. Or third or fourth coming, depending on your deities of choice.

Let me tell you a story that my superiors at the Time Guild wouldn’t want you to know.

A couple of days ago, I decided that I wanted to travel to the year 195,000 BCE. Since it was the weekend, I had to use my personal time-machine, which I actually prefer to the stodgy contraption they allot me at the office. However, without the Guild’s temporal disinhibitor-ray, it was up to me to craft a suitable concoction. So after filling my gut with three liters of Pepsi Max, taking a shot of bourbon, and huffing paint thinner for the better part of an hour, I stumbled into my broom closet and passed out.

There you have it – my secret recipe for spacetime fabric softener.

Anyways, when I came to I was in the dense jungles of prehistory. Looking skyward, I saw a pterodactyl soaring majestically. Shielding my eyes from the sun, I looked to the ocean just in time to catch a glance of a megalodon snapping a leviathan in half before submerging once again. And on the path before me, two cavemen bros riding their steeds, a saber-toothed tiger and a mastodon, respectively.

The caveman on the saber-toothed tiger was the first to see me, and he quickly pointed me out to his buddy. “Daniel, check it out! It’s another one of those dudes from Beyond the Wheel.” He waved to me invitingly, “C’mon over, man!”

I was nervous, but I obliged.

The other caveman hopped off his mastodon and shook my hand. “Hey there! My name’s Daniel and this is my friend Hollis. Who might you be, Beyonder?”

“Pleasure to meet you, Daniel and Hollis. My name is Rendar Frankenstein and I’m from the year 2012. Well, actually, I’m originally from 1986 but I’ve caught up to 2012, and I guess that’s when I’m not shifting all over. I’ve been to a lot of points in the 20th century, and hell, I’ve even gone back Plato’s cave and the Garden of Eden and beyond that. You guys ever see 2001?”

Blank stares.

I laughed. “My bad! Anyways, what’re ya’ll up to?”

With a pat on my back, Hollis clued me in. “We’re actually about to meet back up with the tribe and raid a T-Rex nest. With those things on your feet,” he pointed to my hi-tops, “you could really help us out. You want in?”

Long story short – dinosaurs were murdered, the caveman tribe was victorious, and I got to start off today by having a prehistoric omelet.

Just don’t tell my superiors at the Time Guild. I need this job, and they’re lookin’ for a reason to can me.

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Welcome to the Monday Morning Commute! I’m going to list off the various ways I’ll be salvaging my (dwindling) sanity during the workweek. It’s then your duty to hit up the comments section and share your own recipe for mental-refuge. C’mon, ain’t this the whole point of an Internet community?

With The Dark Knight Rises concluding the Nolan/Bale chapter in the Bat-Verse, the DC is looking like it has approximately no quality movie franchises at the moment. What are they to do? Bank on Zack Snyder? LOL. Seriously, c’mon now. Maybe! Just maybe though, The Rock can save them?

Dan DiDio is taking to The Guardian to defend Before Watchmen, calling it s love letter to Alan Moore’s creation. What DiDio doesn’t mention is that sometimes love letters are epistles scribbled in feces and blood, rambling incoherently. Rambling to such a degree because those penning the shit-blood missive are empty souls, without an ability to define their existence without the object of their love.

Where the soul should be, there is a distinct gaping maw. Warner Bros. and DC are trying to fill this with all sorts of (Bef0re) Watchmen drivel. It can only make sense that one of the many marketing diarrhea-experiences would be a toaster. Wait. No. No this doesn’t make sense, even if we’re talking cross-marketing bullshit.

A shit load of press outlets have been invited into the den of DC Comics to inspect some Before Watchmen swag, and now we can bask in what they captured. A lot of sexy art, prepared and covered in plastic. You know, so when the projectile vomit kicks in the artwork is protected.

I can’t think of anything more antithetical to Watchmen than Jim Lee’s shitty super stylized style. So when he brings his stale ass saltine flow to Before Watchmen: Nite Owl #1‘s variant cover, I puke a little in my mouth.